An Unscrupulous Undertaking: Atrocious Arrangements Pt 1
When coming aboard a ship of the line in the Empire, there are protocols in the extreme. One asks permission to come aboard, salutes the Imperial ensign and maybe the officer of the deck and then goes on to wherever one is going, often with a crewman escort. The CSA navy would like to be so organized, so formal, but the reality is the training isn't as strict. The edges are sloppy. There is a CSA ensign in the back of the hangar, but people forget about it. There is an officer of the deck, but before you can request permission he'll respond like a customs agent and ask one to state their name and business. It is less a navy and more a spacefaring group of corporate mercenaries, many retired from real militaries and enjoying more pay with less combat. After Elias is processed, a young human crewman escorts him up to the administration deck. The ISB uniform is more than enough to intimidate him into silence unless spoken to. When they arrive, he takes the agent forward to the VicePrex's office. The current VicePrex is nowhere near Caspar, and Oppenhiemer has taken to squatting in his office as his berth about the Excise is currently exposed to the vaccum of space. Zeak looks up as the two appear in the doorway. He stares at the crewman, waiting on the customary 'Sir, so and so to see you' but nothing comes. The crewman is either too scared, forgot the guest's name, or is just that poorly trained. "My apologies Agent," Zeak begins as he rises to his feet and begins walking toward the door and offers his hand. "It is amazing how much education a bribe from a parent can allow one to bypass. 'Zeak Oppenhiemer'." If the insulting lack of regulation or common courtesy, is bothering this agent he's very good at keeping it concealed. Of course with a default expression of determined scowl, it's hard to tell when anything is bothering him. He glances down briefly at the extended hand, allowing an awkward moments pause before bringing his own to grasp it. Perhaps a power play, or perhaps simply to show the rude reception was noted. As his silk gloved hand firmly shakes his hosts, his steely gaze raises to the man's eyes. ”I’m well aware of who you are Mr. Oppenheimer." His voice is cold as space, smooth as glass, and thick with annoyance. The accent is thickly core-world, and a bit entitled. "You were selected for this operation because of your history of loyal service to our glorious Empire and your current civilian situation." He references to the crew-man with only the slightest shift of his eyes. "I hope my superiors will not come to regret their choice. You may call me Agent Corentin." "Thank you crewman, you may return to your duties." Oppenhiemer replies before the crewman scurries away and the door swooshes closed. "It is a pleasure Agent Corentin," Zeak then gestures to a small bar on the port side of the room. "I was about to make an Etti stim-caff, can I offer you one, or nearly anything else for that matter, the VicePrex's office is as well stocked as the officer's club on the Guardian - did you ever spend anytime aboard the Guardian?" "Thank you for the offer. I'm fine. Please feel free to indulge, however." The Agent's tone softens only a bit as the offending underling exits. "As for my comings and goings in regards to lost naval assets, I fail to see what bearing that information has on the subject I'm here to discuss." "It is small talk Agent," Zeak replies with a smirkish grin as he approaches the stim-caff machine. "I imagine you might even find it useful, Lord Thel certainly does. We could chat about the Guardian, lament the fate of my alma mater and the base I operated out of for much of my Naval career, who knows you might even been able to stir my patriotic instincts with an appeal to this or that. But I won't begrudge you your style Agent, if you want to be starch," As Zeak speaks the stim-caff machine whirls to life. "So what is this operation I have been selected for?" "Please don't play coy with me Mr. Oppenheimer," Corentin takes a stiff step forward, the annoyance quickly returns to his voice, but it remains otherwise composed. "You are well aware of the merchandise I am here to discuss, and the means by which it should be acquired. I have little use for small talk when discussing terms of business....If we may get to the business at hand" "Oh, you mean the Wookies!" Zeak replies with more than a hint of surprise in his voice as the machines whirls to a completion. "Guns to your Trandoshan friends to support the revolution, in exchange for Wookie slaves which I am to launder for something or another." With that Zeak wraps his hands around the cup and moves to the edge of the VicePrex's desk. "Buy the way what are you planning on doing with that many wookies? They aren't the brightest of creatures - surely droids would be cheaper wouldn't they?" Zeak's tone remains slightly playful. "Dejarik tournament. For some reason even the most skilled players always lose to the creatures." If that was his attempt at humor, this agent's delivery needs some practice. The dripping sarcasm does, however, get the point across that that information is classified. "We are prepared to offer you slightly above market value for the merchandise to help makeup for your loss on the weapons, however we need to settle on a concrete figure." "So you want to buy them?" Zeak inquires, this time genuinely surprised. "I was under the impression Lord Thel wanted to make this difficult to trace - or am I misunderstanding?" "Your understanding is correct." Agent Corentin seems to relish the puzzled look. He allows Zeak to spin his wheels a moment before he clarifies. " This is a leasing agreement. The creatures will remain your property, we will simply be compensating you for the use of a portion of your labor force. No property will be formally exchanged, and your records need not detail the nature of this labor." "Have you ever leased something?" Zeak inquires with an almost professorial quality, his voice drifting to a colder, more detached and less playful tone as they get deeper into the business. "I am not the one leasing anything today. It is your Empire that requires this service." The agent narrows his gaze to a piercing laser, and an edge of menacing insinuation darkens his tone as he continues. "I trust you will take the required precautions to ensure this arrangement remains...satisfactory." "Agent, leases have terms, and those terms depend on what the leased object is being used for." Zeak replies, his voice more animated, a bit more playful. Perhaps the change is intentional? As he speaks he puts the stim-caff down such that he can gesture with his hands, "One of those terms is a 'normal wear and tear' clause. I'm sure you can agree with me that the wear and tear on wookies being used for target practice is very different than the wear and tear on a bunch of wookies lifting bolts of fabric in a uniform factory." Corentin relaxes visibly at this. The smallest hint of a smile can be seen gracing the corners of his thin lips. When he speaks again his tone is more pleasant. "Ah, I understand your concern. Let me assure you that when the lease has expired, this property will be returned to you in adequate shape. Any permanent damage will be compensated for in full at the fair market value." He pauses a moment to analyze how this news is received. "I trust this alleviates any fears?" "So am I to assume you will be taking care of room, board, and medical expenses as well?" Oppenhiemer inquires before taking a sip from his drink. The Agent's smile deepens into a wicked grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth in most unnatural ways. "The...accommodations won't be an issue." "Look I understand you don't think much of the walking carpets, I'm not a fan either, but we are talking about hypothetical property." Oppenhiemer replies as he shifts his weight on the the near side of the VicePrex's desk. "I really need some straight answers -- all of these things must be clearly delineated in the lease contract, additionally there will be regulatory paperwork to file for the company, asset depreciation which will need to be reported in the quarterly corporate reports, and the list goes on and on. I can obfusgate things, but I can't ignore them." "I understand the bureaucratic policies of your corporate book keepers require detailed information," Corentin responds cooly. "The use of these walking carpets as you say, will be in the gathering of a particular rescource. The conditions will be difficult, and while the Empire will take every necessary measure to insure peak productivity. Damage to and loss of some property likely will occur, in the event of such, you will be reimbursed. Beyond that, I leave it to you to determine how you appease your fiscal...overseers. It is none of my concern how you accomplish this, only that it is accomplished satisfactorily." Oppenhiemer ponders the response for a moment before continuing, "If that is really the most you are willing to disclose, we might need to scrap the whole lease idea entirely and look for an alternative structure for the business arrangement. Can I have a day to do some pondering and research?" "My superiors concerns are primarily for discretion." Corentin ponders this a long moment, weighing the request against whatever variables he has to juggle. "If a day is required to ensure this, you may have it. I shall return at the same time tomorrow. Be sure you are prepared to meet our expectations." Without further comment he turns on his heels and swiftly heads to the exit. Pausing before he exits he adds without turning "24 hours, Caspar time." and with that he is gone.